


Take Care

by BeckyHarvey29



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Best Friends, Comfort, Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckyHarvey29/pseuds/BeckyHarvey29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian takes care of Mickey while he's sick</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Care

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Laura <3 ](http://the-rat-wins.tumblr.com/)

Ian stopped outside the door of his best friend’s apartment, and balanced the bag of groceries he had with him on his knee as he dug into his coat pocket for his key. 

It had taken Ian months to finally get a key to his best friend’s apartment. There had been a lot of nagging and general begging on his part, but Mickey had finally relented, figuring Ian was at his place almost every night anyway, so it only made sense. 

After unlocking the door, Ian pushed his way into the apartment, and then kicked the door shut behind him. The apartment was dark, except for the blue light illuminating from the TV in the corner of the small living room.

Ian smiled to himself as he placed the bag of groceries down on the kitchen counter. He then shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the recliner on his way to the couch.

He eyed the lump on the couch as he crouched down next to it. He reached out and pulled down the blanket, revealing Mickey’s face. His chest tightened at the sight and he smiled even wider.

Mickey looked like death warmed over in the most adorable way possible. His eyes were glistening, his cheeks were rosy, and the tip of his nose was pink, most likely from using too many Kleenex. 

“Hey.” 

“Took you long enough,” Mickey groused, before dissolving into a fit of hacking coughs. 

Without thinking much about it, Ian reached out and smoothed Mickey’s hair back away from his sweaty, clammy forehead. “You look like shit.” 

Mickey closed his eyes and let out a shaky, wet breath. “Still look better than you.” 

Ian continued to smooth Mickey’s hair back, not missing the fact that it was starting to lull Mickey back to sleep. “I bought you some soup,” he said gently, watching as Mickey’s eyelashes fluttered. “It’s not homemade, but I figured beggars can’t be fucking choosers, right?” 

Mickey coughed again and tugged the blanket back up to his chin. 

Ian resisted the strong urge to lean forward and press a lingering kiss to Mickey’s warm forehead. “Have you taken any medicine recently?”

“Couple hours ago,” Mickey said sleepily. 

Ian stood up from his crouched position, pushed up the sleeves to his sweatshirt, and then went to the kitchen to heat up Mickey’s canned soup. A few minutes later, he walked back to the couch and gently shook Mickey awake. “Hey, you need to eat something, Mick. C’mon.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey grumbled. “Not hungry.”

Ian sighed and resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes. “Will you just let me take care of you? Jesus.”

Mickey stared up at Ian before finally sighing. He lifted his legs, giving Ian room to sit down on the couch. He then placed his legs over Ian’s lap and then sat up a little. 

Ian was already on top of things, shoving a pillow behind Mickey’s back to prop him up. “Want me to feed you?” he teased.

“Fuck off,” Mickey grumbled as he accepted the bowl of soup.

Ian watched as Mickey tentatively slurped at his soup, before looking away and swallowing thickly. 

Ian wondered when his best friend was going to finally realize that Ian was head-over-heels in love with him. 

He wondered if Mickey would ever know that he had dropped everything as soon as he had gotten the phone call that Mickey was sick. He wondered if Mickey would ever know that he had spent the very last of his paycheck buying Mickey that canned soup, saltine crackers, ginger ale, and medicine. 

After Mickey finished half of his soup, he handed the bowl back to Ian. “Can’t eat anymore.” He then removed the pillow from behind himself and rested back with a dramatic groan. 

Ian placed the bowl on the coffee table and looked at Mickey with a small smile. “You’re such a child when you’re sick. It’s adorable.”

“Eat me,” Mickey murmured as he cuddled back into the blankets.

 _'Oh, if only I could'_ , Ian thought, but kept those thoughts to himself. 

They fell into silence, Ian blankly watching the TV, and Mickey dozing on and off through fits of coughing. 

Ian sat there with Mickey all night, nodding off here and there, Mickey’s legs resting across his lap. While Mickey slept, Ian gently rubbed Mickey’s legs, taking whatever little bit he could get. It was probably the _only_ little bit he would ever get. 

Sitting on that couch all night was uncomfortable as all hell, and Mickey’s snoring was even worse than usual because of his stuffy nose, but there was no way in hell that Ian would be anywhere else.  


  


* * *

  


  
A few nights later, Ian groggily opened his eyes to find Mickey hovering over him.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, his throat scratchy and on fire. 

“The fuck you think I’m doing here?” Mickey asked. “You took care of my ass the other night, so now I’m here to take care of your ass.”

Ian watched from his position on the couch as Mickey walked into the small kitchen and began heating up a bowl of soup in the microwave. 

“They didn’t have chicken noodle. The fuck kinda store doesn’t carry chicken noodle soup?” Mickey bitched as he worked. “So I got you tomato soup. It’s hot and it’ll feel good on your throat.”

Ian smiled to himself even though he felt like shit. 

When Mickey walked back to the couch with the steaming cup of soup, Ian forced himself into a sitting position. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey said, averting his eyes to look at the TV. “It’s payback, or whatever.”

Ian stared at Mickey’s profile until Mickey finally turned his head to look at him. 

A small smile played on Mickey’s lips as they stared at each other. A moment passed between them, and then Mickey looked away. “Eat your soup,” he said gently after a short pause.

As Ian went back to eating his soup, he was surprised when Mickey reached over and placed his arm along the back of the couch behind Ian, his thumb lightly stroking back and forth against Ian’s shoulder. 

Neither one of them mentioned that, or the fact that Mickey was sitting smack-dab right next to Ian, even though there was half a couch left to sit on. 

Neither one of them mentioned how their hearts were racing in their chests as they continued watching the television, both only paying attention to the close proximity of their best friend.


End file.
